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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211648">Usage Alert</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie'>Deannie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnificent Seven (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:20:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,332</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>JD crouched in the shadow of a large, snow-covered fir tree, wishing for better cover. He switched out his rifle for a pistol, knowing the bulky long-range weapon was going to be useless to him in close quarters. His leg was starting to throb again, but he ignored it. There’d be time to rest when this was done. One way or another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Usage Alert</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>JD checked his rifle, sighting carefully through the thermal scope. He wasn’t Vin—wasn’t near as skilled a sniper—but he was better than people suspected. Out there, somewhere, his targets were waiting. There had been three to start with, but he’d already taken care of one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swept the area one more time for good measure, but didn’t see a soul through the infrared haze. The wilderness around him was dusted with snow, the house across the shallow river more ruin than structure at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moving on,” he breathed into his mic, setting off up the ridge to his right. No sense in making himself a target by running along the riverbed. He wasn’t stupid. And he was still alive, which said something. “Where the hell are they?” he wondered aloud, frustration clear in his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just take your time, kid,” Buck murmured in his ear. “Don’t go running off half cocked and get yourself shot.” The older agent waited a beat, then continued, because he was an asshole, “Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Buck,” JD gritted back, his leg and side aching from the mentioned injury. “I’m not letting him get away this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just don’t end up dead,” Josiah’s voice broke in.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sage advice from the master,</span>
  </em>
  <span> JD thought sarcastically. He slowed down, fetching up against a tree and using his scope again to check out the gas station that lay at the bottom of the valley below him. The road beside it snaked through more mountains, north and east.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see anyone,” JD told them, surveying the nearby hilltops. The enemy liked the high ground. JD was more of a “find a good spot down low where no one will notice you,” kind of guy. If he was in that valley, in fact, he’d hide just inside the abandoned old station and wait for them to come to him. It looked like the place hadn’t been used since the fifties, though the two rusted out cars beside it were later models. Seventies, maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Head toward the bridge down to the south,” Josiah suggested. “Safer than putting yourself—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two years at Boston PD and three years in the ATF,” JD cut in testily, moving toward the gas station in a crouch, rifle still out as he looked around and still saw nothing. It was nerve-wracking. “I have a little experience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understood,” Josiah returned, a smile in his voice despite the gravity of the situation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He should be here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> JD thought, a little bitterly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But no, I’m out here all alone, aren’t I?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He did head for the bridge, though, going tree to tree, moving fast in the open but pausing to get a good look around every time he had cover. It took a while to get to the covered bridge, and he sprinted across. There was a small shed just past the structure and he ran for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped dead as he heard footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“JD…?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buck had obviously heard them, too. The high quality headsets were great for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD crouched in the shadow of a large, snow-covered fir tree, wishing for better cover. He switched out his rifle for a pistol, knowing the bulky long-range weapon was going to be useless to him in close quarters. His leg was starting to throb again, but he ignored it. There’d be time to rest when this was done. One way or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The footsteps were coming from the north, stopping and starting as his enemy clearly searched for him, edging his way closer. JD waited until the last possible second before easing out of the fir tree’s cover and firing at a man in army fatigues with a tattoo on his arm that suggested military service, though JD knew the man had never been in the armed forces. JD’s pistol barked once, twice, three times, and his enemy was down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, kid!” Buck called quietly into his mic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But JD was already up and moving again. The shots would draw attention—sound carried too well here. He raced to the top of the next hill then plunged down to the edge of the lake he’d seen on the map. There were a million places to lie in wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Storm’s coming,” Josiah reminded him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” JD agreed, looking into the air at the ominous clouds that had been gathering since he’d dropped into the area. If the storm caught up to him, it would probably be game over. “I’m out of it for now.” And hopefully he’d be done with this mission before—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The explosion to his left startled him and he turned to see a nearby boat explode in a fireball. He understood his mistake immediately and turned back to see a pumpkin-headed figure crouching on a hill far above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bullet found his head not one second later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” he yelled angrily, hearing chuckles over the headset as his computer screen announced “SniperKing434 has won the game!” and in smaller, damning letters beneath it, “Your squad finished #2.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that the game was over, the pain in his leg and back flared to life again. He hated being cooped up in the apartment, but the bullet that had hit his vest a week ago and cracked a rib on his left side had also spun him off the fire escape. He’d broken his leg in two places on landing. He was out of work until at least next week, after the second surgery to pin the bone, and the boys had “taken pity” on him and set up this session of gaming to keep him from going insane. Whether Chris knew about the unauthorized use of ATF computers, JD didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, kid, I thought you had us this time!” Vin crowed, having switched over from the channel he and Ezra and Nathan had been using for their squad’s in-game discussions. “You’re a hell of a player.” SniperKing434 clearly knew he was better, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Wilmington, on the other hand, left us far too early once again,” Ezra drawled mockingly. He’d taken Buck out with a compact SMG three minutes into the game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD smirked, rubbing at the bandage that wrapped around his left side. Stupid thing itched more than his leg. “Buck just likes to watch,” he deadpanned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something about him I did not need to know,” Nathan offered. The others chuckled in response, and JD smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was fun to do something nerdy and tech with the guys, even remotely. When Vin had first caught him playing Fortnite at the apartment during a football party, JD had taken the ribbing and patronizing in stride. Video games were for kids, right? He’d been working on a challenge with a couple of his friends, and the Broncos were in another rebuilding year this season, so he didn’t think he’d miss much by playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as Vin watched the Broncos on the TV, his eyes kept straying back to the computer. It wasn’t more than a couple of weeks before he started playing, too. Buck had played more than once already, but today had been everyone else’s first time. They’d all done pretty well—surprisingly, Ezra was almost a match for Vin. At least in most respects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I find it interesting that, as a man who makes his life sneaking around, you suck so damn bad at taking people by surprise in this game,” Josiah said, obviously directing the comment to Ezra. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true. This was their fourth match this morning and each time, Ezra made the mistake of trying to sneak in for up close eliminations. Which would have been fine, except that in Fortnite, everyone could always hear you coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I’ll try your long range technique next time,” Ezra replied evenly. “Though it didn’t work out too well for you, did it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nathan’s chuckle could be heard clearly. Josiah’s inaccurate attempts at sniping hadn’t caused Vin any damage, but they had given Nathan a clear idea of his position. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> sniping was far better and he’d brought the older man down in two shots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD reached for his water bottle, sighing when he realized it was nearly empty. And it was time for his pain pills. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best four out of five?” Vin offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD grinned. It was already eleven, and as much as he appreciated this, Chris was supposed to be done with the regional DHS review at noon. JD didn’t want the others getting in trouble. “Nah, we’d better—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” Buck whispered. “Boss is here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All five headphones cut out and JD chuckled and pulled himself to standing with his crutches, heading for the kitchen, a glass of water, his pain pills, and some leftover pizza if he was lucky and Buck hadn’t eaten it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris sighed as he stepped off the elevator. The Department of Homeland Security had their fingers in everyone’s pies, and they made sure everyone knew it. The monthly meeting was mostly a chance for them to boss the other agencies around. At least this time, Chris’d been given some useful intel on a militia calling themselves The Righteous Way. They’d been amassing guns for a while now, and DHS had some solid information on where the team could start looking for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course, the Haraday bust had come up. Taking down a high-level arms dealer like him was a feather in the ATF’s cap and Travis had made sure to toot their horn. That made the meeting a little bit better, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would’ve been a great bust without JD falling fifteen feet into a dumpster and busting his leg all to Hell, but it was still some solid work and Chris was proud of his team. Now if they could just bust the damn militia men, the month would be complete….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chris paused as he walked in the door of Team Seven’s office. Everyone was being quiet and industrious. It was suspicious as hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey, Chris,” Buck announced, all hale and hearty and up to no good. “How’d the meeting go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boring as always,” Chris replied evenly. Buck knew he was nailed, but Chris didn’t glare for an explanation, and Buck went back to pretending to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any information on the Smug Ones?” Vin asked, using the name JD had coined for the Righteous Way. Vin, at least, could fake nonchalance. Just not well enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a rough area where they may have set up camp.” Chris handed off a file to Nathan. Didn’t look like he was involved in whatever the Hell Buck and Vin had been up to, but then Nathan was never much of a prankster. “See what you can make of this. If you need help accessing the satellite feeds, you can text JD. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” Ezra drawled from his cubicle near the back of the room. “I expect boredom has set in for the poor man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Josiah and Vin were hiding smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chris hated this shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” he said shortly, heading for his office where he could pretend nothing was going on out here. “We’ll meet in the conference room at 2:30.” He nodded to Nathan. “I’ll want whatever you can get on their location.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t wait for Nathan’s answer, just closed the door to his office and sat down, dreading going through the no-doubt dozens of emails he’d gotten since he left for the meeting this morning. He hoped whatever prank his men were working on didn’t end up blowing up in anyone’s face. Literally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes and fourteen emails into his queue, Chris smiled at an automated email from the system, labeled “Usage Alert”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two months ago, Chris had made a remark during a case meeting about the number of times he’d walked in on Buck playing solitaire instead of doing his damn job. As a prank, JD had set up a watchdog on Wilmington’s machine. Every time Buck opened a game site, the system would send Chris an alert email. It had killed Buck’s habit real quick—or at least transferred it to his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD had either forgotten about the prank altogether, or just never bothered to turn off the alert. Chris opened the email, and Buck and Vin’s behavior suddenly became clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, at least they’re keeping the kid occupied.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*********</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you’re still playing, JD.” Buck was kicked back on the couch, watching the Nuggets lose, while JD sat at his computer with his broken leg splayed out awkwardly to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> playing,” JD corrected him. “I spent a bunch of time today tracking down satellite codes for Nathan, and hunting up credit card records for Vin.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Can’t you guys go one day without my help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buck looked over at the screen and read the state of the game at a glance. Five players left and the storm closing in fast. “I seem to recall </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> helping </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> this morning, kid,” he reminded his roommate. “Damn near got caught for it, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD was building like crazy, wall after stairs after floor after wall appearing on the screen. Buck hated that. He sucked at building in that damn game. “I bet you played it real cool, too, didn’t you?” JD joked. “Chris never even knew you were up to anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buck blustered for a second. “Well, that’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” JD started clicking keys even more madly. He was in the storm now, Buck saw. Two players left. “Fuck! This guy—” JD threw up his hands. “Damn it, I almost had him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buck stared at the screen: </span>
  <b>ManinBlack7 has won the game! You finished #2.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“ManinBlack…” he murmured. “Maybe Chris did know we were up to something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way,” JD averred, looking back and forth between Buck and his screen. “Come on! Can you picture Chris playing Fortnite?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**********</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris sat back from his computer with a bemused grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the Hell was he supposed to do with an umbrella?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*********</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the end</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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